


The House on Allen Road

by pigeonking



Series: The Missing Doctor Adventures - Season One [2]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 13:29:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigeonking/pseuds/pigeonking
Summary: This is the first proper adventure of my Doctor and his companion Clover. Yes she was inspired by Clover from Totally Spies... what can I say, I have a bit of a crush... but she has evolved beyond her source material! ;)





	

Smithwood Manor had been bought in the early 1970s by an eccentric scientist using the money he had earned from his position as advisor to the top secret UNIT organisation during that time. The house stood on Allen Road, somewhere in Kent, and had been used as a sort of home from home by the scientist on sporadic occasions since buying it. A lot of the time though, sometimes for years on end, it remained empty. Occasionally squatters would take up residence within the walls of the manor, but none who stayed there did so for very long. The rumour was that the place was haunted.

Some claimed to have heard a mysterious howling and wailing noise emanating from the house, carried away on the wind like the lament of a lost banshee. These eerie visitations were rare, but it was enough to keep most away.

On November 23rd 2015 the owner of the house returned briefly to drop off some new tenants before departing as quickly as he came. Around that time a passer-by had reported having heard the infamous melancholy wailing during an evening stroll, walking his dog. The dog walker had hurried on by and had taken a longer more circuitous route home on his way back that conveniently left out having to pass by the manor a second time.

For the next six months the house was occupied, but no one who lived nearby could ever recall having seen anyone move in.

 

That first night in Smithwood Manor after the War Doctor had deposited Clover Daniels and her new charge there, Clover had wheeled her companion into one of the many bedrooms using the wheelchair that the Doctor had loaned her. She helped the man from the wheelchair and into the grand four-poster bed and tucked him into it as if he were a new born child.

This was not an entirely inaccurate description for the man in her charge had the mind-set of a very young child. He was a clone of the Time Lord known as the Doctor, created by his people to be used as a weapon in their Time War against the Daleks. The War Doctor had rescued him before he could be conditioned for such a purpose and had infused his knowledge and experience into the neural receptors of an embryo TARDIS. Upon touching the embryo the young clone had begun to assimilate the vast wealth of the Doctor’s collective memories and experiences accumulated over nine centuries of travel through the universe of time and space. It was a lot for him to take in and it would be a while before it all sank into his mind. Once the process was complete the man would essentially be the Doctor, but beyond that he had the capacity to become so much more and he would be free to write his own destiny. A far cry from what the Time Lords had planned for him. The TARDIS itself had been a gift. The War Doctor had boosted its growth rate so that it would be ready within six months. All Clover could do was look after her Clone Doctor and wait.

 

On the first morning Clover had taken her Doctor breakfast in bed. She had explored the house the night before and had been surprised to find the kitchen well stocked. All of the food had been locked in cupboards equipped with advanced stasis technology that kept the food fresh over very long periods. Through trial and error she had worked out how to operate the gas cooker without blowing herself up and had put together some fried bacon and eggs. She had read somewhere that this was an ancient Earth delicacy of this particular time period they were in. As Clover carried the tray into the bedroom along with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice she wondered if the bacon and eggs were supposed to be quite so black as they were and if the orange juice was meant to be quite so lumpy as it was. All of these thoughts were quickly dispelled when she entered the bedroom and found that her Doctor was missing!  

In a minor panic Clover set the breakfast tray down upon the untidy bed and set off to try and find him.

“Doctor?” she called as she roamed the corridors of the great house. Briefly she wondered whether the Doctor would be feeling sufficiently himself to be able to answer to that name, but even if he wasn’t, what else was she going to call him?

Not for the first time since arriving in Smithwood Manor Clover also found herself wondering if the original non-clone Doctor had installed some of his people’s dimension transcending technology into the house to make it bigger on the inside. It certainly felt like it was, but that could have been an illusion on her part.

“Doctor?” she called again. Clover peered into rooms as she went, long enough to satisfy herself that her Doctor wasn’t in them.

There were pictures that adorned the walls of the corridors wherever she went. Some were photographs, both black and white and colour, and some were paintings. Some of the paintings were very old so far as he was able to tell.

One black and white photograph showed a man with white curly hair wearing a velvet jacket that appeared grey within the spectrum of the photograph. Frilly white shirt cuffs spilled forth from the sleeves of his jacket. The man was standing with his hands on his hips and looked out impatiently as if eager to be getting on with something other than having his picture taken. He was standing next to another man in a military uniform of some kind. A cap sat upon his dark haired head and he had a moustache. The man stood with his arms folded and what looked like an amused smirk upon his face.

One of the paintings was a colourful portrait of a man with curly brown hair and a brown hat perched on top of it. A very long looking multi-coloured scarf was wrapped around his neck. The man was grinning out at the observer of the painting and holding out what looked like a crumpled white paper bag containing some sort of brightly coloured confectionary. The signature at the bottom of the painting read ‘Leonardo Da Vinci’.

“Doctor?” Clover called out again.

“I’m in here, child!” a male voice echoed from further down the corridor.

Clover made her way down to the door from which the voice had emanated from.

The room that she entered was a vast wardrobe full of clothes every shape and description that you could imagine. Clothes for men and women from all sorts of periods and fashions.

Her missing Doctor was stood in front of a full dress mirror. His long brown hair had been slicked back and he appeared to be wearing some sort of black frock coat over a white shirt and brown and black checked trousers. A black cravat was tied around his neck.

“Ah there you are, Susan. Found me at last, hmmm?” the Doctor greeted her with a warm smile.

“Erm, I’m not Susan. I’m Clover, remember?” Clover told him gently.

The Doctor turned and looked at her, really scrutinizing her with those piercing, intelligent brown eyes. He took in her long blonde bob of hair and the figure hugging red catsuit.

“Sara Kingdom! I never thought to see you again!” he declared his voice tinged with sadness.

“I’m Clover! Clover!” she repeated patiently.

The Doctor looked at her again. He closed his eyes, screwing them tightly shut and he shook his head before opening them again.

“Clover.” He said slowly. “You were there with the other me on the space station. You saved me.”

The Doctor smiled at her again and Clover couldn’t help smiling back.

“I never thanked you for saving me. Thank you, Clover.”

“Don’t mention it. Are you okay?” Clover wondered, more than a little concerned.

The Doctor looked off somewhere into the distance.

“I think so. My mind is still assimilating all of the memories that the other me passed onto me. I think I’m experiencing what it was like to be the first me. I could be quite grumpy when I wanted to be. Susan was my granddaughter. She travelled with him when he first left Gallifrey. Travelled with me.

I miss Susan. How can I miss someone I’ve never met?” the Doctor looked at her again and he was no longer smiling. There was an ancient sadness in his eyes.

“She was your granddaughter.” Clover offered meekly.

“No. She was his granddaughter. I’m just a clone of him. She was never truly my granddaughter, yet I remember her as if she was.” The Doctor replied somewhat tetchily.

“That must mean something, right?” Clover wondered.

“I don’t know. I am a clone of the man, but am I truly him? I remember Susan as if I had met her, but this body… this me never has!” the Doctor countered and there was a pain in his voice as he said it.

“If the memories are good then you should cherish them.” Clover told him. She felt like she wanted to hug him right now, but wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate.

“They are good memories. Most of them.” The Doctor admitted and his smile returned, but the sadness remained. He looked at Clover again and this time seemed to really take her in; her appearance and all that she was wearing. His smile broadened.

“Dear me, child! Are you going to insist on wearing that get up the whole time that we’re here?” the Doctor proclaimed good-naturedly. “This wardrobe has woman’s clothes too. You can change. I was thinking we could go outside later and explore our surroundings, hmmm?”

Clover found herself infected by his good humour and her own smile beamed radiantly in response to it.

“For your information, Doctor, I don’t have to change. Ever!” she declared smugly.

“Oh? And why is that?” the Doctor asked her, eyes ablaze with curiosity.

“I’m from the future, remember. This jumpsuit I’m wearing is made from a fabric that uses nano-technology. All I have to do is think about what I’d like to wear and…” Clover thought really hard about fashionable 21st Century clothing for young women and almost immediately the red jumpsuit began to blur into a light turquoise short sleeved blouse and a pair of tight fitting blue jeans with sensible black trainers. “Voila! Instant costume change!”

Clover performed a little curtsey and a little twirl to show off her new outfit.

“Very impressive.” The Doctor conceded. “What do you do when you want to wash it?”

“It’s self-cleaning. It washes itself!” Clover replied.

“And what about washing yourself? The clothes do come off don’t they?” the Doctor countered with a mischievously raised eyebrow.

“Of course they do!” Clover smirked. “When the nano-fabric is stable it behaves just like normal fabric… here let me show you…” She began to undo the blouse from the top one button at a time.

The clone Doctor panicked somewhat as his young companion’s breasts threatened to reveal themselves with each button that was unfastened.

“Alright, alright! I get the point!” he protested as he averted his gaze and attempted to cover his eyes with slightly parted fingers.

Clover chuckled and obligingly re-fastened the buttons to cover her exposed flesh.

“I don’t suppose you could get the nano-fabric to fashion you a brassiere next time, hmm?” the Doctor teased.

“I’ll try to remember.” Clover shot back; a twinkle in her eyes.

“The best thing about my nano-fabric is that it allows me to access my gadgets anytime I want them, whatever I’m wearing.” Clover finished her little demonstration by willing a piece of her blouse to form itself into a laser-cutter.

“Very impressive, as I said.” The Doctor replied. “Now are we going to go out or what?”

“I thought we’d have some breakfast first. I left yours in your room when I found that you were missing.” Clover explained.

“Come along then. Lead the way.” The Doctor started to leave the wardrobe room.

Clover placed a hand on his chest and stopped him.

“What is it?” the Doctor clucked tetchily. “I’m hungry you know!”

“You’re not going outside wearing that, are you?” Clover asked with a raised eyebrow of her own.

“Why not? He used to and I want to get a feel of the man I came from.” The Doctor told her.

“Alright, fair enough. But once you’re done exploring your identity… however long that takes; then I want you to try and find a style and an identity all of your own. Deal?”

The Doctor looked into her eyes and couldn’t find any reason to argue with her. It was secretly what he wanted anyway.

“Deal.” He agreed.

 

When the Doctor saw the cremated mess that passed for a breakfast that Clover had made for him, he dragged her off to the kitchen and proceeded to demonstrate how bacon and eggs should be accomplished. Clover marvelled as he pirouetted around the kitchen, dropping ingredients into the pan, chopping things up and performing a multitude of other tasks as he went; a busy little whirlwind of arms and legs.

A short while later he deposited a plate of food in front of her that smelled as delicious as it looked and was a far cry away from the culinary desecration that she had produced over an hour earlier.

“One bacon and mushroom omelette.” He then placed a steaming cup of black liquid next to the plate. “And a cup of coffee. Not sure how you take it, so I left it black. Would you like milk, cream, sugar?”

“I have never had Earth coffee from this era. I’m not sure how I like it.” Clover answered.

“Oh then you have so much to discover.” The Doctor declared excitedly. “And so do I! How do I like my coffee? I have no idea!”

“How do you know how to do all of this?” Clover wondered. She was grinning from ear to ear, swept along by the Doctor’s enthusiasm.

“I know because he knows. This man I share genes and memories with. I guess it saves me having to learn!” he replied, but then his smile faltered and he sat down heavily upon his stool opposite Clover. “It saves me from having to learn.” He repeated, but all of the joy had been drained from his voice as if someone had pulled a plug inside him.

Just as the Doctor’s good humour was contagious, so was his sadness. Clover frowned as she tried to think of a way to put a positive spin on her Doctor’s unique situation. She didn’t have to hunt too hard for that silver lining as the Doctor soon found one for her.

“Of course it’s not all bad you know!” he brightened up suddenly as if someone had turned on a light bulb, or perhaps even replaced that plug. “I won’t have to learn how to fly the TARDIS once it’s finished growing. When it’s ready we can just hop inside and pop off anywhere in the universe that you desire. I could even take you home if you like?”

“Now why would I want to go back there when I can explore the universe in the TARDIS with you?” Clover replied looking into those brown eyes of his that could be sad one minute and then happy the next, as changeable as the wind.

“Exactly, my dear, exactly!” the Doctor beamed back at her.

Clover took up her coffee and sipped at it tentatively. She grimaced at the string bitter flavour.

“I think I’ll try some of that cream and milk you mentioned.” Clover decided.

“Not cream and milk, it’s cream _or_ milk and then you must decide if you want sugar, and then you need to discern just how much sugar! I have a lot to teach you about drinking coffee, my dear. I may not be able to learn, but I can certainly teach!”

 

After the experience that was breakfast the Doctor and Clover ventured out of the house on Allen Road for the first time. It was around a quarter past eleven and the sun was shining through the branches of the skeletal trees. A carpet of brown and golden leaves crunched beneath their feet as they walked. Despite the sun the air was rather chilly and so Clover had willed her nano-fabric to create a warm, knee-length dark blue over coat to stave off the cold. The Doctor on the other hand did not seem affected in any way by the cold at all.

The pair walked arm in arm through the crispy autumn carpet with no specific direction in mind.

There were a few other houses on Allen Road and then right at the top of the road there was a T-junction that branched out onto a new road entirely. Right on the corner of the side of road that the Doctor and Clover walked on there was a large decorative old building that looked to be open to the public. A sign above the door proclaimed it to be _Allen’s Arms_. The sign was also decorated with a painting of what looked like a smiling court jester with his arms crossed over his upper body, a jester’s baton in one hand and a card depicting a grinning joker in the other. Further down the road on the left there was a row of other buildings which could only be shops.

The Doctor and Clover paused outside _Allen’s Arms_. Clover looked at her companion who in turn was looking up at the sign with an expression on his face that suggested he was struggling to retrieve a memory.

“What is it?” she asked him.

The Doctor looked down from the sign and at her. A smile broke out across his face.

“It’s a pub. That’s what it’s called. A pub.” He told her.

“What’s a pub?” Clover wondered. She knew a fair bit about ancient Earth history, but even she did not know everything.

“My, my! That future of yours must be a boring place indeed if you’ve never heard of a pub!” the Doctor grinned mischievously. “No wonder you’re not keen to go back there!”

“They might call it something different in the future. If you tell me what it is I can tell you!” Clover retorted with a good-natured smile.

“A pub, apparently, is a place of social gathering where people meet to purposefully intoxicate themselves with potent alcoholic beverages until they lose the ability to form rational coherent speech and thought.” The Doctor explained.

“Oh yeah, we have places like that. In the future they call them universities.” Clover informed him.

“Very interesting.” The Doctor nodded with raised eyebrows. “Shall we go inside?”

“Lets!” Clover agreed.

And so they entered _Allen’s Arms_.

 

The main bar area of the pub was quite pleasingly traditional. There was an assortment of tables, around six in all, dotted around in the space between the entrance and the bar. Most of the tables sat four people though there were a couple of side tables that sat for two, intended for couples that craved a little more intimacy. Over in the left corner there was a bookcase that pretty much dominated that side of the room. The Doctor was pleasantly surprised at this, even more so when he realised that the shelves actually held real books that could actually be read and not the fake just-for-show ones that pubs sometimes liked to employ for atmospheric and decorative purposes. People in this pub could actually pick out a real book and read it while enjoying a pint of their favourite tipple. For some reason that really appealed to the Doctor’s sensibilities.

A couple of the people who had gathered to drink in the pub had indeed elected to sit with a book whilst nursing a pint of best. Others sat in groups of two to four talking as they drank. One or two were even tucking into a sandwich or pasty.

In the same corner as the bookcase there was also an old Tudor style fireplace that currently crackled with dancing flames that radiated a welcoming warmth on this chilly autumnal day.

A mahogany coloured leather armchair sat next to it with its back to the bookcase, a slightly lower table was in front of this chair and then there was a leather two-seat sofa opposite that which was the twin of the armchair in design and colour. This cosy set-up had been commandeered by a grizzle bearded old man who sat in the armchair reading a newspaper. His dog, a brown and white Springer spaniel, was curled up fast asleep in front of the fire.

To the right of the bar there was a door which carried a brass plaque which proclaimed that toilets could be found beyond it.

In front of the bar was a line of six tall stools, three of which were occupied.

Behind the bar the Doctor and Clover were greeted by the friendly smile of the pub’s landlady, a woman in her late thirties to early forties with very short dark hair wearing a white polo neck sweater and black jeans.

“What can I get you two?” she asked amiably, a slight American twang to her accent.

“Let me stop you there, young lady!” the Doctor proclaimed, holding up a long finger.

“Less of the ‘young lady’. You can call me Ramona. Everyone else in here does.” The landlady, Ramona, interrupted him good-naturedly.

“Thank you, Ramona. I think I will!” the Doctor smiled back at her. “before my young lady friend, Clover and I can order anything I feel duty bound to warn you in advance that we don’t either of us have any money… you don’t have any money, do you, Clover?” he checked in an aside to his young companion.

“Erm, no I don’t have any money.” Clover happily confirmed.

“I have never personally been in a pub in my entire life… long story, perhaps I’ll share it sometime… but I have a memory that tells me that if we want to drink in your establishment then money will be required, so I felt it was important to bring that up before we went and ordered any.” The Doctor continued.

Ramona had listened patiently, her pleasant smile never wavering while the Doctor had prattled on.

“Have you quite finished?” she asked when he became silent.

“Yes. I believe I have.” The Doctor answered as if he wasn’t quite sure.

“Then listen and observe, my friend and I will demonstrate to you how you can earn a drink without any money.” Ramona declared. She reached behind the bar and started pulling out pint glasses one after the other and setting them out in a row upon the bar top.

“Take several empty glasses and fill with water. For our purposes a little soda will do nicely.” There were now eight glasses lined up and Ramona began to fill them up with soda from the nozzle behind the bar, but each glass was only filled to a certain level.

“Eight glasses make an octave.” Ramona continued to explain as she went. “First glass fill with one inch of soda; second glass two inches; third glass three inches and so on and so forth and so on until we get to number eight. Did you know that Benjamin Franklin was the inventor of the glass harmonica?”

“It is entirely possible that I was there when he did it.” The Doctor nodded.

Ramona seemed to take this claim at face value. “Well this is based on the same principle.”

Ramona began to run her fingers dexterously around the rims of the glasses in a sequence producing a melodic humming that, when Clover and the Doctor listened carefully, could be identified as a tune.

“Somewhere over the rainbow!” the Doctor sang softly. “Wonderful! Truly wonderful!”

“Can’t say as I’ve heard that one before. Is that classical music?” Clover wondered.

Ramona chose to ignore this.

“Well…” she paused. “You know, sir, I do not know your name and yet you know mine!”

“Very sorry. I’m not quite sure who I am yet. For now I suppose you can call me the Doctor.” The Doctor told her.

“Well, Doctor. If you can produce me a tune on this glass harmonica then you and your friend can have yourselves a drink each on the house. Deal?”

The Doctor beamed with boyish enthusiasm. He held out his hand which Ramona was happy to shake. “Deal!”

Everyone in the pub had turned their attention to the Doctor as he stood in front of the glass harmonica assembled on the bar top. The Doctor rubbed his hands together gleefully and then paused. He turned his back on the glasses and looked around at his audience as if looking for inspiration. Placing his finger tips to his temples he closed his eyes and stood still for interminable seconds, as if he were deep in meditation.

“What tune? What tune? What tune?” he could be barely heard muttering softly to himself.

Then…

“Ah hah!!! I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, eyes opening and he pirouetted to face the glasses once more, his hands in the air, ready to perform.

It was another several seconds that seemed to stretch into eons before he laid his finger tips to the rims of the glasses and began to play.

The tune that he produced was harmonious, haunting and beautifully melodic and as the Doctor began to get into his performance he began to sing and he was astonished when Clover began to join in… this was a tune that she knew as well.

Together they sang a duet.

_“Klokleda Partha Menin Klatch,_

_Haroon Haroon Haroon,_

_Klokleda sheenah tierra natch,_

_Haroon Haroon Haroon!”_

“You know it as well?” the Doctor asked Clover with delighted astonishment.

“Of course! I’ve been to the Venusian Colonies. Everyone knows that one. ‘Close your eyes my darling, well three of them at least’.” She sang the last bit, but it didn’t have quite the same poetry in English.

“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of it.” Ramona said with regret, but she smiled anyway. “But who cares? That was beautiful. You’ve earned that drink. What will you have?”

The Doctor looked at Clover and then at Ramona.

“I dunno. What have you got?”

After much deliberation the Doctor decided to go for ginger beer. He seemed to remember liking that. Clover opted for a gin and tonic and when she found that she liked it she had another and then another. Then she fell asleep with her head on the bar top which was met with rapturous good natured laughter from everyone in the pub.

“I think I’d better get her home, Ramona. Thanks for your hospitality. We’ll definitely be back. Next time we might even have money!” the Doctor promised with a wink and Ramona accepted this with a wink back and a smile.

The Doctor hoisted Clover’s unconscious form over his shoulder and waved at everyone before exiting the pub and returning home to Smithwood Manor.

It was late afternoon by the time he got her back. He carried her through to one of the bedrooms, lowered her onto the bed and then retreated as quietly as possible. The Doctor still had a lot of assimilating to do before he could decide exactly who he was. Was he really the Doctor? Did he want to be the Doctor? It was still too early to tell, but so far he was happy and he liked who he was… whoever that would turn out to be.

 

The next few days were ones of discovery for both the Doctor and Clover. Clover discovered hangovers, but that did not stop her from going back to Ramona’s pub and trying other Ancient Earth tipple.

The Doctor discovered more of his memories. It seemed that everyday Clover would find him trying out another outfit; one day he would be in a long multi coloured scarf and a floppy hat, much like the man in the Da Vinci painting, another day he wore an obnoxiously coloured coat with yellow striped trousers and another day he absolutely insisted upon carrying around a black umbrella with a red question mark handle, even though it wasn’t raining!

He still got a little confused now and again. Though he mostly remembered that Clover was Clover, sometimes he called her by other names… Sarah Jane, Nyssa, Peri or Ace. Once he even called her Fitz which she was pretty sure was a guy’s name!

They continued to go out and explore their surroundings.

One day Clover had seen a man obtaining currency from a machine set into a wall. It had been a cinch to use one of her gadgets to obtain some for their own use. The Doctor had looked at her with expressions of pride and disapproval warring for supremacy on his face.

Another day they had walked past a shop with uncanny synthetic mannequins modelling the latest fashions in its window. Upon seeing them the Doctor had shouted: “Autons!” and tackled Clover to the ground.

When he had realised that the mannequins were not about to attack, the Doctor had gotten up sheepishly and helped Clover back onto her feet with an apologetic smile.

“I think my memories might be fully assimilated now.” The Doctor told her after two weeks.

He was wearing a dark green Edwardian style frock coat over light brown trousers and leather boots and they were walking back from another night of revelry at the pub.

“Time to deshide who you are.” Clover slurred with a smile; she had gotten better at holding her liquor since that first day. “Perhapsh you can shtart by picking out an outfit of your own inshtead of one of hish old onesh!”

“Yes. Maybe, but you can help.” He replied with an endearing amused smile at his companion’s intoxicated disposition.

 

And so the very next day the Doctor had Clover up a lot earlier than her hangover would have liked.

She awoke with what felt like a swarm of Lakertyan bumble bees swarming inside her head to see the Doctor standing over her beaming amiably and holding a glass of some unidentified liquid that shared the same colour and texture of fresh vomit.

Clover as always, had slept nude and through tossing and turning in her sleep had inevitably shed enough of her duvet to leave parts of her uncovered. The future in which she had come from had long since overcome any moralistic embarrassment regarding public nudity, but nevertheless this was the first time she had been thus uncovered in front of the Doctor. Through the buzzing in her head she remembered the Doctor’s reaction to her undoing her blouse that first day in the wardrobe a fortnight ago, and so she made an effort to pull up the covers to preserve her modesty.

On this occasion though the Doctor seemed unperturbed by the presence of bared flesh.

“Morning, Clover. I thought we could make an early start on choosing my new outfit.” He declared cheerfully.

Clover eyed the blue and white striped pyjamas that he was currently sporting.

“Oh thank, God! For a moment I thought that what you were wearing was it!” she yawned.

“Oh no, no, no! This is just what I wore to bed. Though I see now that clothing is optional when one is asleep.” The Doctor replied.

Clover blushed and pulled the covers up a little higher so that only her head was visible.

“What’s that you’re holding?” she asked him in an effort to change the subject.

“What?” the Doctor seemed confused and then noticed the glass that he was holding as if for the first time. “Oh this? It’s a little concoction I put together that I remembered which apparently is good for a hangover.”

He gave her the glass which she took gladly, only realising too late that in accepting the drink she had released the covers and exposed herself again.

The Doctor appeared not to notice.

Clover drank the concoction… and very nearly spat it back out again. It was only the Doctor’s earlier insistence that it was supposed to be good for hangovers that made her finish the potent potion.

“Bleargh!!! What the fuck is that supposed to be!” she complained, sticking her tongue out in the vain hope that it would somehow get rid of the foul taste.

“It’s a mix of raw egg yolk, Worcestershire sauce and Tabasco sauce blended together. Don’t worry, I’ve got some coffee and bacon sandwiches waiting for us in the wardrobe too.” The Doctor explained.

“Ooh, that might just make up for the vomit potion.” Clover brightened. She had to admit that her head did seem to feel better already.

“I’ll leave you to put some clothes on… See you in the wardrobe room.” And with those words the Doctor turned and left the room.

 

When Clover arrived at the wardrobe the Doctor was already roaming among the aisles of hanging clothes, a bacon sandwich in one hand whilst pulling out various garments to look at with the other.

Clover spied the tray with the coffee and sandwiches that had been set down on a little table on one side of the room. She made a beeline for it and nabbed herself a sandwich before pouring a generous cup of coffee, topping it up with cream and two sugars. Then she returned her attention to the Doctor’s perusal of the many different outfits he had to choose from.

For her own outfit today, Clover had willed the nano-fabric into a rather fetching navy blue mini skirt that came to just above her knees, along with a white blouse with frilled cuffs and a navy blue collar that matched the skirt. A pair of knee-high black leather boots completed the look which she had found whilst looking through one of the many glossy magazines that she had taken to reading lately. Twenty first Century fashion was fast becoming a hobby of hers.

“Sho, harve yu fund henyfink yet?” she asked him through a mouthful of lightly toasted bread and crispy bacon (the Doctor certainly knew how to make a sandwich).

“I beg your pardon?” the Doctor asked with an amused raised eyebrow.

Clover swallowed and asked again. “Have you found anything yet?”

The Doctor looked down at the bundle he had accumulated under his left arm.

“I think I have a few possibilities. I’m just going to pop behind the screen and try them out. You can help me decide which is best.” He popped the last of his bacon sandwich into his mouth and headed for a tall white privacy screen that had been decorated with ornate Japanese calligraphy.

Clover sat down cross legged upon the floor and waited for the Doctor to emerge again. She had taken the liberty of bringing the tray of coffee and sandwiches down to where she sat and she made short work of demolishing the delicious bacon sarnies and draining the hot coffee as she waited.

“Come on, Doctor! What are you doing back there? Making the clothes???” she called. Now that the bacon and coffee were gone she was beginning to feel bored.

“Nearly ready!” the Doctor called back.

A few seconds later he emerged wearing a pair of tan coloured leather breeches, knee high leather boots, a white shirt with frilly cuffs, a long leather coat that was the same tan colour as the breeches and upon his head sat a tricorn pirate’s hat with a scarlet macaw’s feather sticking out of the top.

“Took me a while to pull these bloody boots on!” the Doctor scowled apologetically, then he stuck out one foot and opened his arms out wide in a ‘Ta-da, look at me’ pose. “What do you think?”

Clover was practically nibbling her wrist as she struggled to stifle her giggles. Nearly a week ago they had discovered the TV room with its veritable library of DVDs. It seemed that the Doctor was taking fashion inspiration from some of the movies they had sat and watched together.

“That’s it! No more Pirates of the Caribbean for you!” she sniggered.

“No?” the Doctor looked crestfallen.

“Nuh-uh!” Clover confirmed before falling backwards in another fit of giggles.

She quickly regained her composure as she realised that the Doctor could probably see her knickers… assuming of course she’d remembered to think some on this morning!

Fortunately the Doctor was already trudging back behind the screen so her blushes were spared.

Clover took the opportunity to lift her skirt and check that she had indeed remembered underwear.

With a sigh of relief she saw that she had, though they didn’t leave much to the imagination.

She smoothed down her skirt and settled down for some more waiting.

As she waited Clover decided to play around with her own outfit.

Maybe something a little less provocative and with more scope for modesty?

Her skirt and blouse ensemble morphed into a turquoise turtleneck sweater and a pair of light blue jeans.

Clover stood up and checked out the new outfit in one of the mirrors.

Not bad, she thought to herself, but I want the Doctor to notice me so…

The nano-fabric blurred and changed again. This time she was wearing a pair of very short denim hot pants and a sleeveless white tank top that bared her midriff.

Maybe not. The fabric shifted back instantly to the skirt and blouse combo of before, but this time the hem of the skirt was a little below her knees. Not quite so short now.

Clover lifted the skirt again. Still wearing panties. Satisfied with her outfit she returned to sit on the floor again.

Just in time as the Doctor came out again with his next outfit.

“Much easier getting those boots off than it was getting them on!” he declared as he stepped out in all his splendour. “What do you think of this one?”

His voice was slightly muffled behind the black face mask that he wore. It covered the whole of his head and face so that only his eyes were visible. The rest of the ensemble was just as black. An all in one tunic covered his torso and legs while his feet were bound in some sort of black cloth, quite possibly for purposes of stealth. The hilt of a Japanese katana sword could be seen jutting up over his right shoulder where it hung in a scabbard strapped across him from shoulder to hip. Clover did not remember seeing _that_ in the bundle which he had carried behind the screen.

“Really, Doctor? Ninjas now?” Clover frowned.

“Well if I can’t be a pirate then I might as well be a ninja!” the Doctor replied defensively, pulling off his mask in frustration.

“Why can’t you just be the Doctor?” Clover asked tenderly.

“Because I’m not sure if that’s who I am!” the Doctor shouted back.

“You have his memories.” Clover reminded him, keeping her voice calm and even.

“Yes I do. Do you know I have the memories of eight different incarnations of the same man swimming around inside my subconscious. I know enough that the Doctor who saved me from the Time Lords was the ninth incarnation, but he deliberately didn’t give me any of those memories. I think he wanted to spare me any knowledge of the Time War that he was fighting in. I’m grateful for that. He’s given me a chance for a life outside of the war. A life that he can no longer have. But am I really worthy of carrying on the Doctor’s legacy?” the Doctor looked pleadingly into Clover’s eyes, hoping she had an answer.

“There’s only one way to find out. Go out there and be the best Doctor you can be. I’ll be by your side every step of the way.” Clover held out her hand and the Doctor took it.

“Thank you, Clover. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.” He said, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Probably go outside dressed like a ninja or a pirate.” Clover smirked, squeezing back affectionately. She leaned in and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. The Doctor had not discovered razors yet so he was sporting more than a bit of a beard.

“Go on and have one more try and think Doctor this time.” She urged.

The Doctor smiled. “I’ll try.” And he went off back behind the screen.

When he emerged this time Clover could not hide her delighted smile.

“Yup! I think you’ve got it right this time, Doctor.” She declared as she gave him the once over.

This time the Doctor was wearing a grey jacket which may or may not have been cashmere over a dark blue shirt with stripes in a lighter blue. A navy blue tie with light coloured spots was tied around his neck and he wore black trousers and navy blue shoes with blue and yellow laces. The ensemble was completed by a grey woollen bobble hat on his head that was adorned by a day-glow fluorescent orange bobble.

“Much better!” Clover nodded approvingly. “But, you might want to lose the bobble hat!”

“Done!” the Doctor grinned, cheerfully tugging it off his head and casting it aside.

“Now, what do you want to do next?” he asked.

 

After their arrival some two weeks ago Clover had left the developing embryo of the TARDIS in the garden nursery that was attached to the left wing of the house. The exterior of the nursery was a prism of glass from top to bottom and the interior was home to a wide variety of plants and flowers. Clover had been surprised to see that there were butterflies flitting around inside the cathedral like nursery, quite at home within this self-contained eco-system. The centre of the nursery was dominated by an indoor pond that was decorated with water lilies and occasionally the white-gold sheen of a koi carp’s head would break the surface. Clover had even once stared back into the dark eyes of a frog perched at the side of the pond as it regarded her curiously before jumping in.

She had never seen any creatures such as these in all her life. Nothing like it had existed in her future or on the world she had grown up on. There was no doubt about it in her mind; meeting the War Doctor during that interrupted penthouse heist had been the best thing to ever happen to her. So long as her Doctor wanted her by his side she would be there. She would never leave him. Not for anything.

Clover had put the growing TARDIS in with the plants because she reasoned that if it was surrounded by other things that were growing it might in some way nurture and enhance the process. It certainly couldn’t hurt it. Every day since then she had popped into the nursery to check on the TARDIS’s progress. It seemed to grow several inches each day and on this particular occasion when she and the newly attired Doctor went together to look upon it the TARDIS now stood on a level with the Doctor’s hip. It still held the appearance of a smooth, rounded and polished piece of amber; organic and almost completely translucent. There was no doubt that it was alive in some sense. Whenever Clover touched it she could feel it hum as if it was singing to her, like the purring of a cat.

This was the first time that the Doctor had come with her to check on it. And so this was the first time he was touching it since that first moment when the War Doctor had placed it in his hand.

When the Doctor laid his hands upon it the TARDIS began to hum just as it had done with Clover and it radiated a warm glow. The Doctor smiled a quiet, calm, peaceful smile of serenity and oneness.

“Hello, young lady!” the Doctor spoke softly and it took a moment for Clover to realise that he was talking to the TARDIS, caressing it as he did so as if stroking a pet or a loved one. “Yes, I know you’re as eager to get out there as we are. If there is any way I can find that will accelerate your growth further then I will find it. Have patience.”

After giving the TARDIS one last reassuring pat, the Doctor turned back to Clover, still smiling.

“Well, we aren’t going anywhere just yet. I’m pretty sure that there’s a laboratory in this house somewhere. I’m going to do a bit of tinkering and see if I can’t come up with something that will help our young lady develop a little faster.” The Doctor told her.

“And what am I going to do?” Clover wondered.

“Why don’t you see about what we’re going to have for dinner?” the Doctor suggested before striding off to search for a laboratory.

“Dinner?” Clover called after him. “But we’ve only just had breakfast!”

 

Clover found herself in the kitchen looking for something that she and the Doctor could have for dinner. In the time they had been there she and the Doctor had sampled most of what the cupboards had to offer. The one place in the kitchen where Clover hadn’t looked so far was in the big chest freezer that stood in one corner. Clover had opened it on one occasion, wondering what the contraption was, but had immediately closed it again when she had been blasted by the freezing cold air within. She knew it was for preserving certain types of food because she had seen food in there during that brief moment she had opened it. Today she decided to brave its wintery depths again, taking the liberty to morph an Eskimo parka around herself before lifting the lid.

Inside the freezer she found pizzas, whole chickens, joints of beef, pork and lamb as well as all sorts of frozen vegetables and potatoes. Right at the bottom, tucked away in a corner she even found something that resembled a large coconut-sized Brussels sprout. Clover tugged it out and held it before her with a bemused expression upon her face. She had never seen a sprout so big. For that matter, she had never seen a sprout full stop! Clover had read somewhere that the people of the twentieth and twenty-first Centuries had forced their children to eat sprouts as a form of cruel and unusual punishment. The article had been accompanied by a picture and what she held in her hand did indeed look a little like what that picture had depicted. Clover had a good mind to prepare the obnoxious vegetable for the Doctor to get back at him for relegating her to the kitchen while he tinkered in his laboratory. However, there was something odd about the sprout. The article had never said anything about sprouts being this big and yet there had been nothing in the picture to indicate any sense of the scale of the vegetable. It was because of this doubt that crept into her mind that Clover decided to show the sprout to the Doctor and so she set off to find him in his laboratory. 

 

When Clover eventually found the laboratory and the Doctor the frozen sprout had already begun to thaw out. It had dripped water on all the lovely carpets she had walked across in her search for the lab, making her wish that she had put it into some sort of container. As it was she had been forced to assimilate a pair of gloves to her outfit in order to stop her hands from going numb whilst carrying the frozen object.

Upon entering the laboratory she found the Doctor working on some sort of gadget upon one of the three workbenches. The lab was full of the paraphernalia that one would expect of such a room; test tubes, Bunsen burners, a centrifuge machine and other such equipment, some of which looked archaic and ancient and some that looked futuristic even by Clover’s standards.

The gadget that the Doctor was working on looked rather impressive for something that he could only have started building just over half an hour ago.

“Doctor, I want you to take a look at this…” Clover began, holding out the defrosting giant sprout.

Before she could finish speaking the Doctor turned and saw what was in her hands.

A look of panicked terror sprang onto his face and he quickly snatched the ‘sprout’ from her hands and hurled it out of the nearest window in a shower of breaking glass.

“Wow! I knew sprouts were supposed to be bad, but you could at least of opened the window first!” Clover remarked drily.

“This is no laughing matter, Clover. I just saved your life. That was no sprout!” the Doctor told her. He was still trembling from the shock of what had just occurred to the point that Clover started to feel scared herself.

“Then what was it?” she asked.

“That was the seed pod of a very dangerous alien phytological life form. A Krynoid!”

“Wait a minute, there was a news story back in my century about a colony lost to a Krynoid infestation. I remember reading about it in the holo-press. The whole planet had to be quarantined and there were even talks about possibly nuking it so that the Krynoid couldn’t disperse anymore of its seeds. Whoever placed that seed in the freezer probably put it in there so that it couldn’t germinate and do the same thing to this planet.” Clover reasoned.

“Yes, that does sound like something I would have done. Destroying it would probably have felt too much like murder!” the Doctor suddenly stopped and that panicked expression returned.

“What’s wrong?” Clover asked.

“I’ve just thrown it outside. Quite possibly into the garden surrounded by other plants. A perfect place for a Krynoid to grow!” the Doctor realised in horror. He started to run out of the laboratory, stopping only to pick up the gadget that he’d been working on.

“Come one! We must find that seed before it is too late!”

“Action time!” Clover muttered to herself before running after the Doctor, her outfit morphing into her red catsuit as she ran.

 

Once outside they ran around to the side of the building where the Doctor guessed that the laboratory window would have looked out upon. Sure enough when he looked up he saw the broken window through which he had thrown the Krynoid pod. A further search of the grass lawn turned up some of the broken glass from the window, but no pod.

“It must be around here somewhere!” the Doctor snarled in frustration. “It’s not as if it can just sprout legs and walk off!” He held up his gadget and began to take readings of the immediate area.

The gadget looked a bit like the hilt of a futuristic rapier complete with a hand-guard that covered the knuckles of the hand holding it that curved around from the top of the handle to the bottom. There was a hole in the top of the handle and in front of that there was a round purple light which was currently flashing whilst the device emitted a humming whir that Clover had heard before when she had been with the War Doctor.

“The other Doctor had something like that. Is that your version?” Clover asked.

“A sonic screwdriver? Something like that yes, but I have channelled my adventurous, swashbuckling side which you saw in my initial choice of outfits… I have made a sonic sword!” the Doctor told her with an aside grin and a wink.

“Isn’t a sword supposed to have a blade?” Clover asked dubiously.

“It does!” the Doctor replied. He flicked a switch on the side of the device and a blade of nano-steel grew out of the hole in the top of the handle.

The Doctor swished it around with practiced strokes.

“Do you like it?” he asked her with boyish enthusiasm. “I took inspiration from your nano-fabric, except this is nano-steel! The nanites remain dormant within the chamber at the top until I activate them with this switch. At other times it acts just the same as the other Doctor’s sonic screwdriver!”

“You made that in half an hour? I’m impressed!” Clover grinned, for a moment they had forgotten they were hunting a dangerous alien plant pod.

“I can make you one too if you like… Ah-hah!” all of a sudden the Doctor took off around the corner and Clover was forced to run after him again.

When she turned the corner she found the Doctor standing transfixed in horror and staring ahead of him. She looked where he was looking and saw something truly horrifying indeed!

The fox had been sniffing around in the garden minding its own business when the strange plant thing had come plummeting out of nowhere nearly striking it on the head. Curiosity had compelled the fox to sniff around the large seed that landed in the grass before it. It picked up the pod and carried it off between its teeth. If anything it was something that its cub could play with even if it could not eat it. The fox had not gotten very far with the pod before it suddenly split open. This caused the fox to drop the pod in surprise. Its surprise turned to terror as a tendril whipped out of the split pod and latched onto the poor fox like a remora latching onto the underside of a shark.

By the time the Doctor had turned the corner the Krynoid had spread across over half of the fox’s body. The Doctor looked on in horror as the front half of the fox was consumed by what appeared to be a particularly virulent green, leafy fungus. If the Doctor did not act quickly then the Krynoid would completely take over the fox and escape where it would then grow into a monstrous carnivorous predator; the Doctor could not, would not let that happen!

Without a moment’s hesitation the Doctor sprang forward, his sonic sword raised, the nano-blade extended. He struck at the poor afflicted fox again and again until its body lay before him in bloodied phytoplasmic tatters.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The Doctor sobbed, tears streamed down his face in an uncontrollable torrent.

Clover stepped up to him slowly. She was also crying as she took the sonic sword from him and deactivated the bloodied nano-blade. Without a word she took the Doctor into her arms and just held him as they both wept together.

They stayed like that for quite some time until a movement caught Clover’s eye.

At first she was afraid that the Krynoid might still be alive, but what she saw was almost worse.

“Doctor, look!” she sniffed as she reluctantly disengaged their embrace.

They both looked and they saw the young fox cub that had emerged from the bushes nuzzling the inert form of what had once been its mother.

The Doctor knelt down in front of the young orphan, not caring if he got blood or phytoplasm on his trousers. Gently he took up the fox cub by the nape of its neck and he stood up again cradling it in his arms.

“There, there! It’s alright!” he crooned softly. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t save her. We’ll look after you now, I promise.”

He started to go back inside and Clover walked with him, her arm around his shoulders.

As they returned to the house on Allen Road something nagged at the back of the Doctor’s mind.

Krynoid pods usually travelled in pairs. What had happened to the second pod?


End file.
